


Finders Keepers

by cruisingforcruiserweights



Category: Impact Wrestling | Total Nonstop Action Wrestling, Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Campy Nonsense, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, DemonHunter!Kross, Incubus!Jeff, M/M, Monsterfucking, Vampire!Neville, Werewolf!Elias
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruisingforcruiserweights/pseuds/cruisingforcruiserweights
Summary: The world renowned demon hunter Killer Kross has fallen into the clutches of a maniacal vampire and his demonic cohorts, and has to make a deal with the devil to secure his freedom.





	Finders Keepers

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for a friend last Halloween that I chose to share and continue. Basically an excuse for me to shove all my favourite boys together, make 'em spooky and then make 'em fuck.

The cell door swung open, summoning him to the King’s court yet again.

A turn left, a departure from the norm, soon found him seated at the foot of the lone monarch’s table.

“Well, he certainly looks the part.”

It would seem he wasn’t the only dinner guest.

“I told you, Nero. He’s the real deal, head to toe…”

And he would know, more than most.

Ten obsidian claws clinked rhythmically against the side of a bronze chalice filled with crimson liquid. Those razor-sharp talons extended from the tips of deft, uncomfortably long fingers and elongated arms, drawing his eyes across that deathly pale bridge and up to a face possessed of impossibly high cheekbones and an ever-present smirk.

He was no vampire, and this was no dinner party.

“I think he’ll do nicely.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll be getting much of a say in this little deal of yours?” It was an unnecessary question, of course he wouldn’t, but he was growing tired of merely observing and the soft chuckle his protest elicited from the King was worth the risk of retribution.

“Oh dear, where are my manners-“ the one known as Nero took a sip of his drink, “I have a job for you.”

“Not interested.”

“You haven’t even heard it yet!”

“I’m not in the business of doing favours for freaks.”

“Oh? Neville has told me quite a bit to the contrary…”

Kross tensed. Neville sneered. Nero’s smirk only grew wider.

One long forefinger dipped under the surface of deep red in his cup and began to stir in slow, calculated circles as he continued.

“I’ve heard you can be quite compliant…” he withdrew the digit and paused for a moment to watch the sanguineous contents swirl, “…given the right motivation.” 

The feeling of hands against his skin sent a jolt throughout his entire body, causing his extremities to twitch as he sat there, frozen in place as a feeling of unnatural warmth began to envelop him. The contents of that goblet… it had to be.

He was fully clothed, and yet he could have sworn he felt the touch of fingertips across his chest, his stomach, his thighs. He tried to recoil, but his wrists, his shoulders, his ankles were held firmly in place by that same force, as if he were surrounded and restrained by countless unseeable entities.

His eyes never wavered from the increasingly terrifying creature that sat before him, Nero moving not a muscle under his piercing gaze, and yet the sensation continued to spread.

Dozens of spectral hands grasped and clawed at him, caressing his thighs and pushing his legs apart, thumbs rubbing circles across his nipples until they were stiff and sore.

Every inch of his skin was now burning as if his entire being were a raw nerve. His cock, treacherous organ that it was, betraying him at every turn, had shot to attention the moment he had felt that first set of veiled palms upon him, yet had been conspicuously overlooked as they glided up and down his form.

His breathing hitched inside his chest as he felt one of the unseen hands that had been slowly working its way down his back leaving a trail of sparkling heat in its wake, linger over the curve of his ass for merely a moment before two clawed fingers began to tease at his entrance.

His mouth fell open, a thoroughly undignified moan escaped his lips as- concurrent to those same fingers pushing up and inside him- his painfully neglected cock was taken into a vice-like grip that rivalled even Neville’s. 

This however, only offered up a new opening to exploit, as he soon found himself unable to speak or even utter much at all as his tongue was pressed squarely against the floor of his mouth by the introduction of multiple fingers, their sharp points grazing the back of his throat with every ragged breath he took.

His expression had rapidly softened from a hard, condemning glare, to an almost desperate plea for relief, for more, for it all just to end-

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?” Neville’s familiar drawl cutting through the fog like a knife, feigning boredom despite the uncharacteristic blush that had began to spread across his alabaster cheeks.

“My mother was a whore.” Nero retorted without hesitation, “Etiquette was hardly her forte.” 

Painted lips parted, “Besides…” a black serpentine tongue curled around his raised, scarlet-stained finger, Kross unable to tear his eyes away or even blink as the searing haze that had entrapped him kept his body firmly pinned to the chair in which he sat. “…you’re hardly one to talk.”

_“Nero.”_ Neville’s tone was jovial but firm, a warning. Kross knew it well by now.

The incubus let out an unsettling giggle, and suddenly the spell had been broken, and Kross was in full control of his faculties once more.

His legs snapped shut as he clenched his jaw, his face and neck burning as red as the contents of that cursed cup.

“You gave him my blood.” His words and gaze fell accusatory upon the unrepentant vampire sitting sprawled across his throne at the head of the table, only to be met with a nonchalant shrug in return.

“Now that I have your attention, good hunter,” Nero continued, his voice light and airy as if nothing at all unusual had transpired between the three of them, “I am in need of your assistance in bringing a dear friend of mine home from an unexpectedly long sojourn into the wilds.”

Kross attempted to clear his throat, “Friend?”

“His pet.” Neville sneered.

“Elias is not a _pet_.” Nero protested, showcasing an ability for offence that he wasn’t aware that demons were even capable of. “It’s been three days since the full moon and he still has yet to return to me, I can only surmise that he strayed too far while he was acquiescing to his baser instincts and has become lost.”

“So he-your friend- is a werewolf?” Kross looked to Neville for confirmation, his expression more than a little incredulous that three such disparate breeds of demon could be so closely affiliated.

“Don’t look at me,” the self-appointed monarch retorted, “I’m not responsible for his abysmal lack of taste.”

“What can I say.” Nero said with a wave of a hand, quirking an eyebrow in Kross’s direction as if daring him to dig deeper. “He keeps me well fed.”

“He’s probably fucking a deer carcass as we speak-“

“He is _not!_ ” Nero slammed the goblet of Kross’s blood down on the table, droplets of crimson scattering across its surface as the seemingly ancient and incredibly powerful creature pouted like a petulant child at Neville’s ribbing.

“So that’s why you reek of wet dog…” Kross chanced a barb of his own, causing Neville to throw his head back in raucous laughter and Nero to narrow his eyes.

Kross held up his hands in surrender, the reaction he’d provoked from the vampire having been enough for him, and he didn’t want to run the risk of riling the incubus further.

“Alright, I’ll bring your man home, but if I may be so bold-“ he turned to Neville once more, “-what exactly do you get out of this? I assume you’ll be letting me go?”

As much as he had “enjoyed” his time spent as the personal blood bank and fucktoy to this crazed bloodsucker, he had reached the limited of what he assumed he could learn about vampire physiology at this point and was rather looking forward to an opportunity to chase down his own prey for a change.

“It’s a simple exchange.” Neville rolled his eyes, as if the answer had been obvious all along, “Along with the mutt, you’ll be providing your replacement. You’ve outlived your entertainment value, I’m afraid.”

_Thank the Lord_ , Kross thought. Trapping and catching was his speciality, and he wasn’t too fussy about roping in some poor slob to take his place if it meant finally being out from under the thumb of an abomination as unpredictable in his whims as Neville was.

“Take this.” Nero snapped his fingers and suddenly a small glass vial was hanging weightlessly in front of him. Kross plucked it from the air and examined it further, an iridescent purple liquid swirled autonomously inside. “Apply this to whatever _humane_ trap you deem appropriate for a lycanthrope and you’ll attract every night breed in the county. It’s your job to ensure that my Elias is among them.”

“Or else-“ Kross began.

“Or else I’ll fuck the soul out of you.” Nero beamed as he drained the chalice of Kross’s blood and licked his lips with relish.

_Christ_ , Kross thought as he beat a hasty retreat from Neville’s hilltop fortress, _don’t threaten me with a good time._


End file.
